


Fog

by ZScalantian



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Gen, Halloween 2020, Lost Woods, minor blood, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27319930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZScalantian/pseuds/ZScalantian
Summary: Lost in the mist, Link strays from the path.
Kudos: 15





	Fog

The air was cold enough that Link’s breath came out as steam to mix with the swirling fog. Somewhere to his left, a mountain crow gave a rasping croak. He checked the Sheikah slate. Only 5:48. He sighed and his torch flickered as a gust of night wind hit it, embers drifting away in the mist. He’d only been in this forest for less than an hour. It felt much longer.

Looking over his shoulder, he wasn’t sure if could retrace his steps. The dew that soaked his pants had already been replaced on the grass by the heavy fog. Then, floating through the air, he heard a faint song. A sprightly tune played on a flute or whistle. Finally. Something to follow.

“Hello?” he called, but no reply came. The music didn’t stop.

He followed after it, startling a crow that flew into the branches of one of the many dead trees. It called after him, scolding. Ahead, the tune skipped from tree to tree. On his left, on his right, now behind him, until he was thoroughly turned around with no hope of knowing his location.

He checked his map, but the mist seemed to have seeped into the slate. All that showed was a yellow arrow in a sea of fog. He let slip a small muttered curse. The fog around him wasn’t still anymore. Something was moving.

His ears twitched. The creaking of dry bones; that meant Stal-enemies. He chose a low-level spear. It had a good reach and he didn’t mind if it broke on the annoying monsters. Link expected to see the skeletal monsters shamble out of the mist. Instead, they came drifting - several stalkoblins floated towards him, hanging like puppets on silk strings. Red lights glowed in their empty eye sockets.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he backed away from their advance. This wasn’t right. Nothing about stal-enemies was right, of course, but this… They floated and jerked this way and that. Their teeth chattered as they screeched and hissed. He struck out, thrusting his spear into the ribcage of the closest monster.

It fell apart, but its bones… its bones hung in the air, each on their own thread. They rattled together, reforming. Link watched in fascinated horror as a scene he’d watched many times before played out in this new odd fashion. His inattention nearly cost him. He had to dodge quickly to the side as a second stalkoblin whistled past him. Fast. Much faster than normal.

As it passed, he saw a needle-like knife protruding from its forearm. In the background, the tune continued to play.

Link refocused. These things were a threat. It didn’t matter how unusual they were, they needed to be destroyed. He tightened his grip on the spear. With a pivot, he thrust it into a stalkoblin approaching from behind. It fell apart, its piggish skull bobbing in the air. With an upward jab, he shattered it. The rest of its skeleton faded into noxious smoke.

One down, two to go.

Somewhere distant, a stag bugled, an eerie noise in the dark air. Link panted, and his limbs shook. How many puppets had he taken out now? Two dozen? Three dozen? He didn’t know, he’d lost count. The fog swirled around him, the music still played. Time in these woods felt meaningless. He needed a new tactic. He’d followed the tune, he’d walked away from it. He’d walked in a straight line only to end up where he started.

He set down the twitching stalkoblin arm he’d been using as a makeshift weapon. Its bony fingers clawed at the dirt, tearing up clumps of grass. He undid the clasp on his shoulder armor, slid off his tunic, chainmail and undershirt. The cool mist chilled his bare, sweaty skin and a chill ran up his spine. Link shuddered, shaking the feeling off.

Stripping off his boots and pants, he bundled the lot of it into the slate, selecting instead his Sheikah outfit. His damp skin meant the form-fitting clothes clung to him, hard to put on. Next, he traded his clunky knight’s bow and shield for a thin, quieter phrenic bow and a guardian sword and shield. He knew that when he activated them, they would glow and catch any nearby monsters' attention, but they were the quietest for movement. As a last bit of preparation, he downed a full bottle of stealth potion.

As quietly as he could, which was very quiet indeed at this point, he moved through the fog, crouching low in the grass. Closer and closer, he crept towards the source of the music. Finally he saw, sitting in the broad, knurled branches of a dead tree, a child dressed in a brown tunic. Their head nodded from side to side with the playful tune they played on a wooden flute.

Carefully, Link took aim. He had no proof that this child was responsible for the stalpuppets, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. He shot the flute from the child’s hands. With a spin, they bounded up to their feet and stared at him, stomping their feet in aggravation, before disappearing in a puff of dry leaves. They had worn a skeletal mask on the top half of their face. Glowing yellow eyes had peered out from beneath their wide-brimmed hat.

Link watched for glowing ripples in the air. If the child was at all like a Wizzrobe, they would leave a path behind them that he could follow. 

There was nothing. In the distance, the song started to play again. Moments after, the familiar sound of rattling bones floated from the mist. He grit his teeth and stood. Of course, there would be more of them.

The red, gleaming eyes were farther from the ground this time. Towering out of the fog came three giant stalmoblins. They hung heavy in their strings. Link readied his sword and shield, blue light illuminating the mist surrounding him. The first stalmoblin came flying at him, far faster than its natural lumbering gait.

Not enough time to dodge. He braced his shield for impact. The force of it rattled him and the light of his shield flickered. But he held, and it held. The puppet stal flailed backward and Link lashed out, sword cutting cleanly through strings and bone. 

After this set of puppets was destroyed, he slipped back into the mist. More puppets patrolled the woods but as long as they didn’t spot him, he didn’t engage. They floated through the woods, swirling fog left in their wake, and he slipped by them until the skull child was in his sights again. 

A pair of stalmoblins stood guard next to the child but with the phrenic bow, Link didn’t need to get close. This time, he didn’t aim for the flute. The arrow ricocheted with a ding off the child’s masked forehead. They froze for a moment, and the stal monsters beside it crumbled. Then the child’s head snapped in his direction, a disturbing grin on its face. 

With a chilling laugh, it disappeared.

Link groaned. He was tired, sore, cold, and hungry. He checked the time again. 3:21 am. He sagged. He’d been lost in the fog for over ten hours. When was the last time he even ate?

Somewhere in the fog, a flute played.

The sound of bones and a hiss. Stinging pain flung him forward as a stalizalfos’s tail cracked against his back like a whip. Rolling to avoid another skeletal lizard’s pounce, he bumped into the hard roots of a tree. He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could

He was backed into a corner. His movements were slow and sluggish. Tired. 

The first lizard whipped him with its tail again. A welt rose on his stinging skin. With a hiss of breath, he raised his shield just in time to deflect a third strike. Again, he caught the gleam of a needle-like knife protruding from the monster's palm.

The creatures leaped away, regrouping, swaying in their strings. One opened its mouth, in remembrance of an attack it had in life. In death Link didn’t have to worry about it, the monster instead leaving itself open. Except - something did happen.

Hundreds of needles flew from its mouth, easily piercing through the thin, unarmored fabric of his Sheikah outfit. He collapsed to the ground in pain, grabbing for a needle that had struck precariously close to his right eye.

The stalizlfos didn’t give him a chance to draw it out. The puppets rammed into him, sending him flying through the mist. He hit the ground hard and rolled for several feet. He lay in the grass, feeling numb. Above him, the mist glowed pink. He blinked.

Wha..? Oh… a fairy. The little being floated above him. Once she saw he was conscious again, she left. Her light faded away into the mist. 

He came back to himself slowly. Everything hurt. He could hear the puppets looking for him, hissing and creaking as they moved through the mist. Link lay still and held his breath as they passed nearby.

He was so tired. 

The music continued to play. 

With a groan, he rolled over and pushed himself up. He checked the durability of his gear, changed out his bow and arrows, then swallowed down a pair of mushroom rice balls. He wanted  _ out  _ of this fog.

Again, he carefully crawled his way towards the music, avoiding any puppets he came across.

This time the child was dancing as they played on a large stump. Silently, he drew back the string on his mighty lynel bow. Three ancient arrows flew through the air and struck the skull kid. It disappeared into blue light. The arrows having whisked it away to goddess-knew-where.

Link sagged against the rough bark of a tree. Finally.

A child laughed.

Link jumped, ready to fire at whatever moved.

In the middle of the stump, a flurry of leaves appeared and the child popped back into existence. Link stared, his ears drooping. How?

“Three times! My turn!” the skull child cheered before disappearing.

What?

“One… two… three…” The words were drawn out, lingering in the mist.

Cottla telling him to count as she hid flashed in Link’s mind.

“Four… five… six…”

A game?

“Seven… eight… nine…”

This kid had spent the last several hours trying to kill him. 

“Ten! Ready or not, here I come!”

He readied his sword and shield. Blue light glowed around him. He scanned the mist for movement.

The skull mask appeared right in front of him. “Found you”

His vision flared white as a thin knife was thrust through his side. Distantly, he heard a child laughing.

Link woke face down in dew-covered grass. Immediately he pushed himself up, fingers searching. The stab wound was gone. There was no blood, or even a hole in his clothes. But the pain lingered. When he looked around, he saw he was back to where he’d first entered the fog. The time was 6 am.

Ahead, in the fog, he could hear a child laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> You cannot tell me you didn’t think of Skullkid at least once when getting lost in the fog in the Lost Woods.


End file.
